


The Hungry Ones

by red_crate



Series: Gift Fics [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Bond Rejection, Case Fic, M/M, McCall Pack, Minor Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Original Character Death(s), Pack Dynamics, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 16:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14048673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: All these years, and Stiles still doesn't have more than a drop in the bucket of information about how being a werewolf actually works. And now is when he desperately needs all he can get.





	The Hungry Ones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Green](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/gifts).



> I owe Green a fic. This is not that fic, but it is the first version of what I'm working on for her. She has been so incredibly patient with me *hearteyes*
> 
> Many thanks to lavenderlotion for the input on tidying up the ending!

Stiles talks to Liam about it first, because the kid is the only one out of Stiles’s possible pool of informants that doesn’t have a history of angst attached to his werewolf status. Well, he does, but Liam handled it better than Scott at first and hasn't had quiet as much trauma in comparison to the born werewolves Stiles knows.

“You don’t feel him?” Liam wrinkled his nose, obviously confused by Stiles’ question. “It’s not a telepathic bond or anything, but there’s still this space in my head that is _Scott_. And my wolf is calmer when I’m around Scott.”

Stiles frowns a little, thinking. “Do you think we are supposed to have something like that too?” He wags a finger between the two of them.

God, he hopes not. He doesn’t really want to be in the middle of lunch and suddenly get inundated with _feelings_ about Theo—or worse, things like mental pictures and sensations. Stiles shakes his head, shoving the thought away for now. There doesn’t seem to be any special bond between the two of them now that they’re...werewolf brothers or something.

All these years, and he still doesn't have more than a drop in the bucket of information about how being a werewolf actually works. And now is when he desperately needs all he can get.

“I don’t know? You’re the first werewolf Scott’s bitten since me.” Liam shrugs and pops a chip into his mouth.

Stiles was expecting a little more sympathy than this, but he has to admit he wasn't exactly concerned for Liam when the kid got turned either. Frowning, Stiles slumps in his seat.

They’re sitting in the high school courtyard during lunch. Stiles never thought he’d be the type to sneak back onto campus after graduation, but here he is anyway. At least he’s not sporting a leather jacket. Stiles steals a handful of Liam’s chips and crunches on them as he mulls over his predicament.

“I’ve seen Scott and you through your transitions into wolfyhood.” He speaks through his mouthful of food. “It feels a lot different on this side of things though.”

Liam smirks, though he’s nice enough to keep from saying “duh.” He even pushes his bottled water towards Stiles.

Stiles sighs and uncaps the bottle. “We’re pack now, so I guess your germs are my germs.”

“And germs don’t really matter to us anyway,” Liam points out.

Stiles rolls his eyes. Somehow, he'll figure out what's going on with his wolf and why it doesn't seem to like Scott very much.

* * *

 

He doesn’t get a chance to ask anyone else about pack bonds before a new threat pops up. Stiles was minding his own business, reading over his material for one of his online courses, when he got a text from Scott that there was a ‘suspicious’ attack near the Loft. How Scott found out about it before the police scanner alerted Stiles, he doesn’t know. While he’s zipping up a hoodie, he tries searching for the faint mental connection to Scott.

When he finds the thread, Stiles can feel his wolf pacing under his skin. It makes him shiver and grind his teeth, so he pushes the thread further away. He can’t even tell what sort of mood Scott is in.

There’s a body and _a lot_ of blood when Stiles jumps out of his Jeep. Liam and Scott are already there, but Derek and Peter show up a few minutes after Stiles does. They still aren’t officially part of Scott’s pack, yet both men have chosen to stick around. Stiles thinks it must be the fact that they grew up here and Beacon Hills has always been their home. Scott hasn’t complained about their presence since Peter stopped actively trying to kill him and Derek backed off considerably to let Scott do what Scott wanted.

Stiles lets his wolf come forward for a moment, testing out how it feels about the Hales. Since Stiles became a werewolf, he’s been spending as much time alone as possible. The anger and high emotions are hard to get a grip on, and he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt anyone or wolf out in front of people who really don’t need to know about the supernatural. Scott has offered to train with him, but he’s also been distracted with school and work.

Now, Stiles finds that his wolf doesn’t seem to mind either Derek or Peter. With Liam, Stiles knows his wolf is only mildly curious, possibly a little fond of him. Stiles's wolf naturally balks at Scott. He’s surprised when he realizes his wolf is almost straining forward. He looks at the two of them, wondering if it is one in particular his wolf wants, but he can’t tell.

Peter smirks at the attention and saunters over. “I see the baby wolf has been allowed to come out and play.”

“Gross. Shut up.” The exchange is rote by this point. Stiles rolls his eyes, then says, “I’m fine.”

Derek gives Stiles an appraising look. “If you need any help with—”

Scott cuts him off by saying, “Jordan called me when he stumbled upon this.” He’s squatting by the remains of a man. “There are bite marks that don’t look like any kind of canine I know of.” When he stands, he looks at Liam.

“Right.” Liam grimaces and takes a deep breath. “Got it.”

The dull ache of jealousy that usually runs through him when he sees Scott and Liam working so easily together doesn’t pop up this time. Instead, he feels impatient. Liam texts someone—Stiles assumes Theo—and nods his head.

“Does it look familiar to any of you?” Scott asks.

Stiles has been trying not to look too closely at the body or the blood. His stomach already feels queasy at the smell of fresh decay already setting in. He leans over without actually moving closer to see if he can get a good look at any of the bites. There’s one on an arm, and it looks like whatever killed the man had two rows of teeth. Wonderful.

Neither Derek or Peter seem to be bothered by the scene, moving closer to inspect. Peter crouches down the same way Scott had, and surveys the mess.

“Could be a particularly nasty wendigo. I’d say ghoul, but those typically feast on bodies that are already dead.” He exchanges a look with Derek.

“I don’t know of anything else it could be. Were there any witnesses?” Derek asks this of Jordan, who had stepped back to let Scott get everyone up-to-date.

Jordan shakes his head with a frown. “I was drawn here, not called in. Since I’ve been here though, I haven’t seen anyone. And I didn’t find anything useful that could tell us what he’s doing in this part of town.” Jordan produces a wallet that is surprisingly clean. When he pulls the license out, he reads, “Jared Rodriguez of 2158 Willow Wood Road. He’s forty-nine and an organ donor. Looks like there isn’t much to offer though.”

Stiles snorts quietly. “Family? Work? Cell phone?”

Jordan points to a smashed bit of metal and glass on the ground smeared with blood. Stiles gulps around the lump in his throat that is threatening to revolt. “Right.”

“I’m going to go check out his house, see if anyone is home and can give me an idea of where he’s been and where he might have come into contact with something that can do this sort of damage.” Jordan drops the wallet back into an evidence bag that they all know won’t be entered into the department’s database.

Scott asks Stiles, “Do you think you’ll be okay to go with us?” He nods his head to Liam. “We are going to see about tracking his scent.”

Stiles doesn’t really want to. Scott is asking about Stiles's ability to keep a leash on his emotions, not whether or not Stiles's wolf wants to fight with Scott’s.

Peter steps in to suggest, “I think his talents might be best served with research, don’t you?” He doesn’t look as though he cares very much what Scott says, but Stiles catches the quick glance Peter throws his way.

Scott hesitates, and Stiles shrugs. “He has a point. I know I need to learn about scent tracking, but I honestly feel like I might hurl any minute.”

“Yeah, okay.” Scott frowns, looking closely at Stiles. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, Scotty. I’m fine. Go, scent. I’ll see what I can find out.”

Another car pulls up just then, and Theo steps out of the driver side though he doesn’t come to join the rest of them. Instead, he calls out, “Let’s get this show on the road.” He’s got an annoying little smirk on his face, eyes trained on Liam.

“Good luck with the love birds,” Stiles mutters to Scott as Liam jogs over to give his boyfriend a kiss hello on the cheek.

Scott stares at them, soft smile on his face. “I’m happy for them though.” His smile brightens as he looks back at Stiles. “Text me if you find out anything before we get back.”

* * *

 

Derek’s loft is no longer the center of operations. Scott’s apartment is where most of the meetings happen, and where everyone tends to hang out even when there isn’t anything dangerous going on. Peter has a condo nearby, and that’s also where the majority of the Hale library stays these days.

It’s a surprisingly comfortable place. Stiles likes the overstuffed couch and chair with the blankets thrown over the backs. The kitchen is painted a chipper, light yellow, and the flooring is lush carpeting throughout the condo. Stiles heads towards the spare bedroom Peter converted into an office.

“Any idea which of these books would tell us what kind of creature has two rows of teeth?” Stiles runs his fingers over the spines of the books directly in front of him.

“No.” Peter is suddenly right behind him.

When Stiles startles and turns around, there is less than a foot between them. He doesn’t know how Peter managed to sneak up on him. Surprisingly, Stiles's doesn’t feel defensive or angry about the sudden lack of personal space.

“Dude,” he chides Peter and presses a hand to Peter’s chest. He pushes back. “How many of these have you converted to PDF, anyway?”

Peter lets Stiles push him back, but he doesn’t go very far. He gives Stiles a shrewd look and asks, “Have you rejected your alpha, Stiles?” He sounds delighted.

The hair on the back of Stiles's neck stands up. The words echo through his head, and he wonders _what-if_?

“What are you talking about.” He asks without inflecting his words into a true sentence. Maybe he’s been around Derek too much.

Peter wags a finger back and forth, chastising. “I’ve seen the way you act around him, Stiles. Since he bit you, you’ve been acting different; you _smell_ different around him than you did before.” He makes a show of inhaling deeply, close to Stiles's neck. “You smell almost contemptuous around him.”

He should push Peter away again, but Stiles knows Peter is onto something. Besides, Stiles's wolf is having an interesting reaction to the closeness. It seems to be _relaxed_ instead of defensive.

“You’d know all about how that smells, wouldn’t you?” Stiles says reflexively. But he’s busy examining the fact that he wants to move closer to Peter instead of further away.

“That wasn’t very convincing.” Peter lifts his hand and makes to set his palm against Stiles's neck. He stops millimeters before skin touches skin. “Do you know what I smell now?”

Stiles doesn’t want to answer that, because he can smell the longing himself. Instead, Stiles brushes past Peter and goes to perch against the desk. He crosses his arms.

“I’m not here to talk werewolf business. I’m here to help figure out what this week’s baddie is. Are you going to actually help me or not?”

Peter slowly drops his hand were it was still in the air and gives Stiles a reproachful look. “Denial doesn’t look good on you, but if you insist…” He rounds the corner of the desk and sits down in front of the computer.

Stiles catches the glance Peter gives him, the way Peter’s gaze lingers on Stiles's ass as he sits on the edge of the desk. Slipping down and feeling warm suddenly, he crosses his arms and goes back to the bookshelf to start searching for any titles that look like they might be in any way useful.

Twenty minutes later, he’s absorbed in a text about nymphs and no closer to solving their current problem than when he started. Peter’s voice breaks him from his reading.

“Come here.”

Stiles closes the book on a finger to hold his place and moves back to the desk. It takes him a moment to realize he hadn’t hesitated or even thought about snarking Peter for the abrupt command. His step falters when he sees how intently Peter is looking at him, the small smile tinting his lips in interest.

Stiles's wolf has been the most content it’s been since it first formed. Unease springs up in him when he realizes this. Peter must have been the one his wolf had been nudging him towards in while they were back in the alley. Despite the knee-jerk skepticism, Stiles can’t find it in himself to back away.

For the past month, he’s been in a nearly constant state of struggle with his wolf, and it just feels so good to have his wolf feeling happy. When he sidles up next to Peter, he stands closer than he normally would. He braces one hand on the desk and one on the back of Peter’s chair as he looks at the computer screen.

Peter’s scent has always been a deep, spicy thing that Stiles enjoyed. Right now, he inhales and it’s almost as if it sinks in deep. He wets his lips and asks, “What did you find?”

Peter doesn’t answer for a beat, instead he tips his head up to look at Stiles. Their faces are inches apart. Stiles's fingers dig into the leather of Peter’s office chair.

“Didn’t you say something about personal space earlier?” Peter smells smug and intrigued.

Stiles turns to look pointedly at the computer, ignoring the question. He may be willing to give into his wolf a little bit for the sake of peace, but that doesn’t mean he wants to talk about it right now.

“Focus, Peter.” He starts to pull away and stand up, but Peter starts talking.

“The bite patterns looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I might have seen it.” Peter points at the computer screen. “I remembered a case I’d read over while converting this to pdf.”

Stiles leans closer to read the text. It’s about a hybrid wendigo/ghoul, very rare indeed. He shivers at the description of the hybrid eating its victims alive. There’s no way the guy they saw in the alley had a quick and painless death. Stiles also doesn’t know how the incident didn’t draw in any witnesses.

When he’s finished reading, he asks, “I thought you said you didn’t recognize the bites?” Typical.

“Derek said that,” Peter corrects. “I didn’t say one way or the other, because I had no real information to supply at the moment.”

“Annoying,” he mumbles to himself though there’s no anger in his tone. He leans forward again to look at the photo of the, thankfully, clean bite mark attached to the description. It does look very similar to what he saw at the crime scene.

“Okay, so how do we find this thing?” He hesitates. “It is a full-on monster, right? Because this here says it doesn’t have a motive beyond survival.”

He has no qualms about killing something or someone if they’re out there viciously killing other people. Stiles does feel a little bit of guilt at the thought of killing someone for doing something they have literally no control over.

“It is a monster. Regular Wendigos are similar to the rest of us, though their diet is obviously much more exotic.” Peter smirks a little. He pushes his chair back which prompts Stiles to stand up straight.

He doesn’t want to go far. Vaguely, Stiles thinks wanting to be closer to Peter should be an issue, but he doesn’t worry about it. Things have been much calmer between Peter and Scott--and by extension the rest of the pack--for almost two years now. It’s fine.

It’s _fine_.

Stiles blinks when he realizes Peter is standing now, close enough that the older man’s breath fans across his face. His heart feels like it’s tripping in his chest and that moody little asshole of a wolf inside is pushing forward again.

He clears his throat. “You know when you said something about my wolf rejecting Scott?” Stiles rambles, eyes locked on the growing smirk on Peter’s face.

He’s got a really nice mouth. Not like this is the first time Stiles has noticed.

“Yes?” Peter prompts.

“I think you might be onto something.” Stiles flicks his gaze up to Peter’s eyes when he catches the _want_ lacing Peter’s scent. “Don’t let it go to your head, but my wolf seems to like you a little better.”

Peter grins outright, and Stiles's cheeks flush. “Your wolf has good taste then.” He raises his hand just like he had earlier, moving like he wants to touch Stiles's neck. This time, Stiles lets him.

“It’s a thing that happens? Werewolves rejecting their alphas?” Stiles really tries to stay on topic, but his mouth is moving on its own because the rest of his body, wolf included, are more interested on the electricity passing between the two of them.

His eyes slip shut when Peter’s warm, wide palm cups the side of his neck. Peter brushes his thumb along Stiles’s jaw. “Have you ever heard of mates?” His words are spoken close to Stiles’s ear.

“Like soul mates or something?” Stiles opens his eyes back up, skeptical when Peter’s words sink into the fog of his desire. His hands are tangled in the hem of Peter’s shirt. “Soul mates aren’t real.”

Peter makes a considering noise and brushes his nose lightly against the sensitive skin behind Stiles’s nose. “Maybe. But I mean werewolf mates. Something between a normal lover and a soul mate.”

Tipping his head back so Peter can have more room to work with, Stiles says, “No. But I’m guessing you can, ah, explain it?” He shudders when Peter’s fangs drag up the column of his throat.

It should feel like a threat, but Stiles only feels safe and wanted.

Peter smiles—Stiles can feel it— and says, “I believe your wolf recognizes the connection between the two of us, Stiles. The rift that already existed between you and Scott was widened when your wolf was born. When it sensed my wolf, it severed ties with Scott fully in order to attempt to join the pack with your mate.”

“That sounds fake,” Stiles mumbles. He will have to mull the explanation over later, but right now he’s basking in the feel of Peter against him. He wants to feel more.

“Would you be here in my arms for any other reason?” When Peter pulls back to ask that, Stiles can smell the resignation. Peter’s heartbeat has been quick yet steady this whole time, he realizes.

Stiles holds Peter’s gaze for a long moment, weighing his answer. “I don’t know,” he answers truthfully.

Peter carefully pulls his hand away, and Stiles feels the loss. “Would you rather it be someone else?”

This is so much—maybe too much, too—but Stiles suddenly can’t fathom the idea of purposely severing any ties with Peter. When he lifts his own hands, they are shaking but he places them on either side of Peter’s neck. “No.”

The smile Peter gives him is open and wide, so unlike anything Stiles has been allowed to see from him. It’s beautiful just as it’s heartbreaking in its scarcity.

They kiss, meeting in the middle, as if a pact has been made. Peter’s hands come up to cradle the back of Stiles’s head.

Peter ends up sitting on the desk, papers and books pushed aside, with Stiles between his legs as they continue to kiss and explore each other. Stiles shimmies out of his overshirt while Peter pushes the t-shirt he’s wearing under that up to expose Stiles’s stomach and chest.

“You too,” he demands, impatient after tugging off his shirt so his hands are free to slide over Peter once more.

Once both of them have lost their shirts, Peter pulls Stiles in tight and hooks his a foot behind Stiles’s knee. He has nothing to rut against where he’s aching in his jeans, but the need for release is only secondary to getting as much of Peter—of his _mate_ — as possible.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, Stiles.” Peter confesses between kisses along his neck as his fingers skim up Stiles’s stomach to rub across his nipples. The air is thick with their combined desire.

Stiles drops his head to rest against Peter’s shoulder, mind spinning. “I told you no, back in the parking garage. Did you know this could happen then?”  


Peter’s fingers drop to his hips as he turns to nuzzle the side of Stiles’s face. “I thought what-if. Something about you always drew me in.”  His fingers tighten. “I’m glad you said no.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if I would have treated you well had you said yes when I was in that state of mind.”

Stiles’s heart clenches. He pulls back enough that he can look at Peter once again, push his fingers through Peter’s soft hair. “You listened to me when I said no.”

He’s thought about that a time or two before, about how Peter had gone on a rampage of killing and hurting back then. He hadn’t seemed to have a care at all about what anyone else wanted so long as it suited his plans. And yet there was this one instance. Peter had _asked_ Stiles if he wanted the bite, and when Stiles said no, Peter had listened.

“Thank you.” Stiles kisses Peter gently.

Peter wraps his arms around Stiles and holds him tightly. They stay like that for a long moment, before Stiles thinks to ask, “Should we tell somebody about the wendigo hybrid thing?”

When Peter lets go, Stiles looks down at where the two of them are still half hard. “Because I kind of really wanna do some no-pants stuff with you. But Scott could probably use the heads up.”

Chuckling, Peter says, “Go ahead and text him.” He slides off the desk and hooks a finger in one of the belt loops of Stiles’s jeans. “We can make our announcement later, after I’ve thoroughly ravished you.”

Stiles is hit all over again with need and his thumbs fly over the keyboard of his cell phone. He doesn’t pay close attention and hopes autocorrect will save him in the end. He’s kind of got more pressing matters to deal with anyway.

“I’m sure that’ll go over well,” He scoffs before tossing his phone onto the desk and hooking an arm around Peter’s neck to pull him into another kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This week I've been going through my WIPs forlder and trying to tie up fics and get them posted so I don't have to look at them anymore. lol
> 
> Title from Def Leppard's "Animal"
> 
> If you wanna come hang out with me on Tumblr, I'm [here](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com).


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